“There has been a separation,” said the boy in a low voice.  “He behaved like a dirty cad—­she had no resources—­no means of support—­” He hesitated, moistening his dry lips with his tongue.  “Mrs. Ruthven has been very, very kind to me.  I was—­I am fond of her; oh, I know well enough I never had any business to meet her; I behaved abominably toward you—­and the family.  But it was done; I knew her, and liked her tremendously.  She was the only one who was decent to me—­who tried to keep me from acting like a fool about cards—­”

Did she try?”

“Yes—­indeed, yes! . . . and, Phil—­she—­I don’t know how to say it—­but she—­when she spoke of—­of you—­begged me to try to be like you. . . .  And it is a lie what people say about her!—­what gossip says.  I know; I have known her so well—­and—­I was like other men—­charmed and fascinated by her; but the women of that set are a pack of cats, and the men—­well, none of them ever ventured to say anything to me! . . .  And that is all, Philip.  I was horribly in debt to Neergard; then Ruthven turned on me—­and on her; and I borrowed more from Neergard and went to her bank and deposited it to the credit of her account—­but she doesn’t know it was from me—­she supposes Jack Ruthven did it out of ordinary decency, for she said so to me.  And that is how matters stand; Neergard is ugly, and grows more threatening about those loans—­and I haven’t any money, and Mrs. Ruthven will require more very soon—­”

“Is that all?” demanded Selwyn sharply.

“Yes—­all. . . .  I know I have behaved shamefully—­”

“I’ve seen,” observed Selwyn in a dry, hard voice, “worse behaviour than yours. . . .  Have you a pencil, Gerald?  Get a sheet of paper from that desk.  Now, write out a list of the loans made you by Neergard. . . .  Every cent, if you please. . . .  And the exact amount you placed to Mrs. Ruthven’s credit. . . .  Have you written that?  Let me see it.”

The boy handed him the paper.  He studied it without the slightest change of expression—­knowing all the while what it meant to him; knowing that this burden must be assumed by himself because Austin would never assume it.

And he sat there staring at space over the top of the pencilled sheet of paper, striving to find some help in the matter.  But he knew Austin; he knew what would happen to Gerald if, after the late reconciliation with his ex-guardian, he came once more to him with such a confession of debt and disgrace.

No; Austin must be left out; there were three things to do:  One of them was to pay Neergard; another to sever Gerald’s connection with him for ever; and the third thing to be done was something which did not concern Gerald or Austin—­perhaps, not even Ruthven.  It was to be done, no matter what the cost.  But the thought of the cost sent a shiver over him, and left his careworn face gray.